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Mortal Souls	By : bloomsburry Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 14133 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter Universe. They all belong to J.K Rowling. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Warnings: This story contains; coarse language, violence (torture and murder), blood and gore, explicit lemons and non-con. This is going to be a very DARK fic. It's really not suited for those who are gentle at heart and for minors. So be warned.
Summary: A pair of cursed bracelets brought them together. Two people from different time-lines and from totally opposite sides, bound together by fate and mortality. Their hatred for each other can neither tear their souls apart nor can they resist the lust which drives them to the brink of destruction.
MUST KNOW
*words written in:
Italic - internal monologue
Bold - magical spells/ charms / curses
Bold and Italic - speaking in Parseltounge

Year 1947
Borgin and Burke's
Tom Marvolo Riddle was exasperated to say the least. Today was a very busy day for him since he had to charm and bargain with ten customers in the past eight hours. Most of them were men, and they weren't as easily fooled as the women who came to the shop. One of them ended up asking for Tom's manager.
Why you ask? Because the customer was being unreasonable with the price that Tom had set up. The tall foreigner was so insulted that Tom was forced to call his manager.
It didn't end well for Tom, as Caractacus Burke scolded him in front of the customer, who looked unconcerned with Tom's predicament. It was utterly humiliating and extremely vexing for him. He had considered murdering both the customer and the old man right then and there; but a particular memory stayed his hand.
He remembered the Aurors who came to the shop last month.
It had been four years ago when Tom had killed his father and grandparents. Even though the Aurors already had his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, under custody. They seemed to have the impression that Morfin Gaunt was not the one who had committed the crime, despite the fact that Morfin was a muggle-hating wizard, who had an altercation with certain young lord many years ago.
The Aurors had been there to ask about the murder of the Riddle Family, and it had come as a surprise to Tom that they had known about his relationship to the family. Everyone at Hogwarts knew that he was an orphan. He had made sure that no one knew about his connections to the Riddle family, but it seemed that someone had prior knowledge about it all. He was certain that it was the old fool, Albus Dumbledore.
Unfortunately for Dumbledore, Tom was nothing if not thorough when it came to cleaning after his..ugh…mess. The possibility of someone who would find out about Tom's involvement with some dead bodies was close to nil.
So when the Aurors had appeared at Borgin and Burkes and started asking questions, Tom had simply told a good-enough alibi to remove the suspicions off of him. He informed them that he had been with his 'friends', when the Riddle Family was murdered. Then, he had pretended to be distraught by the news to convince the Aurors of his innocence. To Tom's relief, they seemed to have accepted his alibi because they never returned after their visit.
Thus, Tom deliberately kept a low profile, mostly from the ever-nosy and suspicious Albus Dumbledore. For that reason alone, he couldn't jeopardize his cover even if he wanted to. Not at the moment anyway. Tom would just have to wait for the right time and make his move. Right now, he was still at the vital part of his plans. He really didn't want to ruin it. Even if it was against his pride.
"Tom, apologize to Mr. Volkovich." Caractacus Burke stated; his small, watery eyes darted towards the customer in fear before swivelling back to Tom. "You should know better than to treat the customers with disrespect."
Tom Riddle inwardly seethed; his eyes glinted dangerously as he noted the censure in the simpleton's voice.
However, on the outside, Tom merely plastered a genial smile that didn't reach his eyes as he said, "Of course, Mr. Burke," and then his eyes flickered into a murderous gleam as he fixed his dark, blue eyes at the frowning customer.
"I sincerely apologize for having offended you, Mr. Volkovich. It was never my intention to do so. I always treat my customers with the highest regards and sensitivity. I really do apologize if I acted any different towards you."
He finished saying. His fake, warm smile still in place when Mr. Burke turned his attention to the customer.
"You see? Tom is a good lad." The frightened shopkeeper squeaked. His eyes were bright and round with fear as he looked at the mysterious man.
Tom bristled at the statement. It was so typical for Mr. Burke to call him a 'good lad', like he was still a child, when in truth he was far from that. If only the imbecile knew how far Tom would go for the price of immortality. He was certain the stupid man would never ever think of Tom as being a 'good lad'. He mentally smirked.
"Hmn..." The costumer in crimson robes murmured, and was staring at Tom with an inscrutable expression on his patrician face. Not entirely agreeing or disagreeing to what Caractacus Burke was rambling about.
Tom hastily raised his mental shields up, wary of the foreign customer. He had a gut feeling that there was something dangerous about the wizard.
"He is new here." Mr. Burked explained, trying his best to placate the foreign customer. "He really didn't mean to offend you Mr. Volkovich. Tom here doesn't-"
The blonde-haired Bulgarian finally turned his attention to the small, and lesser man. Mr. Burke immediately cowered under the full-blast of Mr. Volkovich's glare.
"I don't want to hear any explanation Caractacus. I had wasted valuable time arguing with the boy for a better price of my bracelet." Mr. Volkovich shot Tom a fierce look, to which Tom countered with a convincingly contrite gaze.
The foreign wizard continued on. "I want this inconvenience, that the boy had brought, well-compensated. I'm selling this bracelet for 100 galleons—" Mr. Burke sputtered at the amount but Mr. Volkovich continued. "—and also in exchange for the orb that I asked last month."
"But—but—The bracelet you're selling is not even worth that amount!" The small man protested.
The Half-Bulgarian snarled.
"This bracelet is the rarest object that you can ever find Caractacus! Better than all the things that you're selling here combined!"
Inside his mind, Tom scoffed at the wizard's outrageous claim. He had seen the bracelet alright, and couldn't help but disagree. The bracelet was not beautiful. It was in fact, downright ghastly. Tom could hardly decipher the small engravings and the elaborate design that wove around the bracelet. Moulds, rusts and some disgusting-looking slime had accumulated on the small jewellery. Tom suspected that no one had worn nor touched the bracelet for centuries. Who would even want to buy such a repulsive artefact? - If even it was an ancient artefact to begin with.
But most of all, he couldn't even feel any trace of magic from the bracelet. There was nothing there to make the bracelet note-worthy. It was just a worthless muggle piece which deserved to be cast into the sea. It certainly wasn't worth the hundred galleons that the customer demanded. The wizard was a complete idiot to even think that he could deceive Tom - a future Dark Lord - into buying some hideous-looking bracelet. That was Volkovich's first mistake in underestimating Tom.
The Blonde man must have seen something on Tom's face because the Bulgarian was suddenly throwing daggers at him. Tom instantly schooled his features into an inscrutable mask while he met the wizard's glare unwaveringly.
The temperature in the room suddenly plummeted as his adversary rounded on him. Tom felt the dark and menacing aura coming from the other man, but he wasn't intimidated, or even scared in the least. In fact, he was becoming excited. His body was coiled tight in anticipation; prepared to do the inevitable bloodshed.
There was a strained silence when neither of them dared move or even said anything. Even Mr. Burke became silent, his eyes darted from Tom to the stranger, and back again in rapt attention.
"Do you have something to say to me, boy?"
Tom carefully watched the other man's eyes narrowed into slits as Volkovich questioned him. Nothing about this arrogant man fazed Tom. Nothing at all.
"No, Sir." Tom responded in a surprisingly pleasant voice. Not giving away his thoughts as he continued to mentally plot different ways to dispose Volkovich's body once their conversation was over. "I have nothing to say."
"I see." The Bulgarian murmured. His face drawn into a contemplative frown.
"You don't believe that this bracelet is highly valuable, do you?"
Tom could only raise a brow at the question, as if to say, "What do you think?" But nonetheless he remained unresponsive. There were a flash of irritation in the man's face, obviously disliking Tom's reaction - or lack thereof.
"Come here, boy." Volkovich suddenly ordered.
All at once, Tom could hear alarm bells going off in his mind. Adrenaline instantly rushed into his veins as he instinctively reached for his wand. But Mr. Burke stepped in before Tom could do some irreversible damage.
"Now, now Mr. Volkovich..I think the boy doesn't-" The small man started, but immediately stopped at the look on both Tom's and Volkovich's face.
"Fool!" Tom thought in vehemence, and silently watched in satisfaction as the Bulgarian's attention snapped back to the old man once again.
"You!" The wizard said in irritation. Mr. Burke nearly wet himself at the menacing aura that Volkovich emitted.
"I don't want to hear any of your nonsense, you pathetic excuse of a wizard!" Volkovich hissed angrily and he swiftly sent a non-verbal silencing charm at the whimpering wizard.
The blonde man then turned his grey eyes back to Tom, who had already drawn out his wand when Volkovich had been distracted. And at the sight of Tom's wand pointing at his chest, Volkovich merely arched a pale brow.
"I don't take kindly to a customer who assaults my manager, Mr. Volkovich," Tom said in a calm and quiet voice. His eyes never leaving the other man. "And most certainly not inside the premises."
In spite of his justified reason for having to draw out a wand at a customer; it wasn't only the reason that Tom had to resort to such drastic measure. He already felt threatened by Volkovich's presence. He honestly couldn't care less what would happen to his manager.
"Oh? Are you scared, boy?" Volkovich mocked while he pointed his wand at Tom.
"No." He coolly responded.
"Him? Scared?" Tom thought, an angry scowl marring his forehead."What utter nonsense!"
As far as Tom was concerned, the only one who should be scared, was the foreign wizard.
Not Tom.
Never him.
Volkovich is going to SUFFER. SOON.
"Then you are a fool, boy."
Tom's eyes flashed red. The blood-lust inside him curdled in response to his rage.
"The arrogance of this man! How dare he speak to me like this?!" He thought furiously as he raised his wand. Ready to tear Volkovich from limb to limb with a string of dark curses, when his thoughts came to a screeching halt as an unexpected chuckle disrupted the tense atmosphere.
"We'll see about that."
Those words thundered ominously inside the shop, but that didn't warn Tom for what happened next. In a short fraction of a second, everything became a blur to him. He hadn't even blinked before he felt something heavy and cold wrapped around his wrist. He couldn't even remember crumbling to the floor as his body started twitching and jerking in agony, like a thousand cruciatus curses were aimed directly at him.
He couldn't recall screaming in pain, and all the while he like felt his soul was being ripped apart and then patched up again for what seemed like hours. Tears were freely streaming down his cheeks, which he hardly noticed, as he was consumed by the white-hot agony that wrapped around his entire being.
All the things around him became incoherent. The haunting laughter that came from the foreign man was drowned by Tom's torturous cries. Even the shouts from Mr. Burke - who was able to speak again - were ignored as he knelt down next to Tom; frantically trying to help him.
Tom could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, but not before he heard Volkovich's last, and final word.
"Your pain has only begun, Tom Marvolo Riddle. You should have known better than to underestimate the Cursed Bracelet of Merlin."
Then, the foreign wizard vanished - as if he had finally accomplished what he came to do
It was two weeks later when Tom Riddle woke up from a coma. Caractacus Burke had brought him to St. Mungo's Hospital the night after Volkovich abrupt departure. Tom was already unconscious when the medi-witches examined him at the Hospital.
To Tom's dismay, his comatose state had caused some mild disturbance at the Hospital and the Ministry. Tom had baffled the medi-witches in St. Mungo's when they weren't able to identify the cause that had ultimately resulted to Tom's comatose state.
Even the curse-breakers from the Ministry were perplexed by his condition. They bestowed him so much unnecessary attention that Tom became cautious, especially after they had sent a muggle Doctor to examine him - to his utmost disgust. The muggle Doctor had yielded with the same results. However, the healers had only been able to verify that Tom was not suffering from any muggle-related medical diseases - which was a complete relief to Tom.
After they all had exhausted their resources on him, they had inferred that Tom had only suffered a short mental breakdown due to stress.
It was the most outrageous thing that Tom had ever heard! Tom had concluded that they were all idiots. He'd been in a coma for weeks, and that's all they came up with?! Because of stress?! That's completely absurd! They were lucky that Tom had reigned in his temper when they had explained it to him, because if he hadn't, most of those buffoons would have ended up in the Hospital or a morgue.
Soon after that, Tom was discharged from the Hospital a couple of days later. While everyone believed that he was fine, Tom thought differently. He was far from fine. Volkovich was out there somewhere, probably amused that he had incapacitated Tom for an entire month. Hence, Tom had spent most of his time machinating for Volkovich's demise, and finding the Slytherin locket and the other artefacts of the four founders.
By that time, Tom had already returned to work.
Caractacus had acted apologetic towards him when Tom was discharged from the hospital. Mr. Burke had allowed Tom a few days off before he could resumed his work. It was mainly because the insipid man hadn't revealed to anyone about Volkovich's involvement. Apparently, the Tom's manager was frightened of the Bulgarian.
Despite the fact that Volkovich was the reason Tom ended up in a coma, he was grateful that Caractacus hadn't spoken to anyone about Tom's injury, or Volkovich part in it. He really didn't want anyone tracing Volkovich's murder back to him.
As the months bled out into years, revenge was constantly present at the back of Tom's mind. There hadn't been a single day that Tom hadn't raged and schemed for vengeance, and he would make sure that Volkovich would pay in full.
At some point, Tom was so engrossed in his desire for vengeance and power that he had barely notice the changes. He had pursued the Slytherin locket and other artefacts with a single-minded determination that he had become blind to other things around him. Most importantly of the ancient bracelet on his wrist, which had become invisible and intangible when Volkovich had latched it on him.
It would take him years to realize that he had been carrying an ancient artefact that traced back to the 11th century. A cursed bracelet so powerful that no one dared touch it, except for an ancient family bequest with the task of protecting it by the first wizard - Merlin.
However, the bracelet wasn't the only one that existed.
In fact, Merlin had purposely made a pair. One for himself, and the other was for a witch.
The other cursed Bracelet was said to be given to Morgana le Fay - the first evil witch who brought forth destruction during the 11th Century, which plunged the era into the Dark Ages. With the help of the bracelets, Merlin was able to defeat Morgana...but in his quest to defeat her, Merlin had to sacrifice himself.
After Merlin's death, the Pendragon family was left with the purpose of guarding the bracelet.
But the other bracelet, Morgana's bracelet, was said to have vanished after her death.
In the myth, the people believed that Morgana's bracelet was lost in time... and could never be found again..
But they were wrong…
So terribly wrong…

Year 1999
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
A lone figure stood at the corner, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible while her chocolate, brown eyes were trained towards the revelry in front of her. A small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she watched two particular young men: a raven-haired man with glasses and a tall red-haired, who were both talking to Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom.
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were there to celebrate Hermione's graduation. Both of her best friend and boyfriend were proud of her achievement, and she was very happy to share her success with them. They had teased her incessantly for receiving numbers of awards but Hermione didn't mind. She was proud to say that she was one of the students who graduated with honours - a Valedictorian at that.
Letters of invitations from Ministry and other places still kept on coming via owl post. Precisely because Hermione had become a famous war-heroine - next to Harry and Ron. Apart from that, she was also one of the top students of Hogwarts. It was disconcerting to think that she was receiving a lot of attention from people she hadn't met or even heard of.
Hermione couldn't believe her success. After the fall of Lord Voldermort, she felt like she was still walking in a dream. Everything that had happened in the past felt surreal to her. Even after a year of peace, Hermione still felt a sense of being haunted. Maybe it was the after effects of war. Perhaps it was the so-called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which she often heard about from muggle doctors. But whatever it was, Hermione could not stop herself from constantly looking over her shoulder for an impending attack.
Hermione really didn't survive the war mentally unscathed because she still had nightmares. The torture that she had suffered from Bellatrix Lestrange had left a haunting echo in Hermione's sub-consciousness. Even the scar in her arm hadn't completely healed. The 'mudblood' word that the crazy woman had carved on her skin was faint but distinguishable. She really couldn't erased the mark if she wanted to, like the scars that she had received from Dolohov during her fifth year, and other faceless adversaries.
She couldn't truly escape from the horrors of war, which plagued her even until now. Hermione couldn't shake the slight paranoia that sometimes reared its head unexpectedly. She knew it was unreasonable for her to doubt Voldermort's death, but Hermione had felt an irrational edginess lately. A feeling that she was teetering in a precipice. One wrong move and her world would come crashing down.
She still wasn't safe at all. Paranoia or not, Hermione couldn't bring herself to truly enjoy the graduation party. As a silent observer standing in the corner, this provided Hermione a sense of security while she watched other people around her. It was better that way.
Hermione sighed and leaned back against the wall. She slid her hands against the silky material of her dress robes while she lost herself in her thoughts. She couldn't bring herself to go back to her friends. Not yet anyway when she was still shaken by what happened just a few minutes ago.
Earlier that night, Hermione had detached herself from her friends to go to the loo and fix her appearance. She had been looking at the mirror when she felt it - a presence lurking in the corner. After years of constant vigilance during Voldermort's reign of terror, Hermione didn't think twice in pulling out her wand and opened fire at the unforeseen entity. Her spell had hit the sink and it exploded. Water had erupted from the wreck, but there was nothing there. Hermione had then hurried out of the loo, extremely perturbed. She was sure that she saw a specter move before it disappeared.
The sense of unease she felt in that moment had gotten to her. Hermione wiped the cold sweat from her palms and straightened. There was no point in moping alone in the corner when she could just enjoy herself with her friends.
"Merlin, you're pathetic." Hermione mentally berated herself. "Allowing your imagination to get to you like that? Idiot!"
She tried to compose herself into a semblance of indifference. She wasn't going to be ruffled by what happened. It was illogical. So Hermione turned her attention to herself. She checked if there was any dirt on her dress robes, and then got herself momentarily distracted as she admired the fine clothes she wore.
Hermione was wearing a floaty emerald dress robes made of silk. The material was so thin that it failed to hide the curves underneath the robes. A ribbon was purposely added to the dress robes - to which she securely wrapped around her waist, where it flared to emphasize her hour-glass figure. Other than that, the front of the robes was open and low-cut, showing another dress underneath.
Without her dress robes, Hermione would have felt exposed. The dress that she wore underneath was made of the same silky material - but of virginal white in colour. Like her dress robes, the bodice was low-cut, showing a delectable amount of cleavage. The white silk clung to her figure; from her small waist, to the flare of her hips, to the swell of her bosom and the curve of her buttocks. The skirt widened as it reached mid-thigh, where layers of petticoats were sewn underneath that created the ballooning effect and ended just above her knees. And like her dress robes, a white ribbon was collaborated.
The design of the dress was exquisite. A silver and gold plate lace were trimmed and woven on the silk dress in complex designs of stars, moons and other constellations. It was a strapless dress that left nothing to the imagination, especially the back part where the curve of Hermione's spine was exposed. And to make matter worst, it didn't have any zipper or buttons, the only thing that prevented the dress from falling down was through magic.
Indeed, the dress was a piece of work, which Ginny had chosen for her - to Hermione's chagrin and dismay. Ginny had forced her to wear it for that occasion alone since the red-haired witch had bought the dress as a graduation gift for her. She didn't have the heart to decline it.
Hermione sighed as she turned her attention to her hair, but she decided not to check on it. She really didn't need to after she just came out from the loo. She had already seen herself in the mirror and remembered that her hair was still in place, with her chestnut brown curls left to cascade in thick tendrils down her back and shoulder.
She had allowed her hair to grow just below her shoulder that year, and she had spent a considerable amount of time making it look glossy that day. She didn't really care about how she looked. Hence, when she had tried to fix her hair into a tameable mass that very morning, she had concluded that growing her hair to that length had been impractical.
As for her appearance, Hermione had preferred to make it simple and not overly dramatic. Thus, she had opted for a mascara and a thin eyeliner to emphasize the colour of her eyes. While a smudge of red lipstick - which she gently wiped out with a napkin - and a lip gloss, made her lips look plump and inviting. Then, she had worn a pair of silver earrings, which was given to her by her mother a long time ago. And finally, she wore a simple one-inch stilettos as her footwear. It wasn't as impressive like the rest of her attire, but Hermione had considered it fit for the occasion, even after Ginny had protested.
When Hermione had stood in the mirror that afternoon, she had felt like she was looking at a stranger. In the mirror, she couldn't see the little girl with bushy brown hair and buck-tooth teeth anymore, but a young woman in full-bloom.
At the age of twenty, Hermione Granger had truly grown into a fine-young woman. The moment she had stepped out of her room. Everyone had agreed. She was no longer plain, but a woman with an exquisite beauty. Her boyfriend, Ronald Weasley, had simply gaped at Hermione for a long time that she had to forcefully close her boyfriend's mouth, before he choke on a fly.
Hermione chuckled as she recalled Ron's reaction to her appearance. It was priceless. Although, they've been dating for a year, Ron and her still had their squabbles. Sometimes Ron comments were directed at her appearance. And she just loved rendering Ron speechless every time she transformed herself in occasions like these. Her boyfriend was just adorable.
Hermione couldn't stop the fond smile from curving her mouth while her eyes immediately sought out the person that was currently on her mind. She saw her boyfriend still standing beside Harry. After successfully composing herself together, she decided to join her two best friends. She was about to make her way towards them, when a familiar voice stopped her on her tracks.
"Hello, Hermione."
Jerking her head towards the voice; Hermione's gaze landed on Luna Lovegood.
''Congratulations on your Graduation." The blonde girl said, smiling softly.
"Thank you, Luna." Hermione replied, returning the smile. She watched as the blonde came to a halt in front of her. "How have you been?"
"Wonderful." Luna stated simply. She had a dreamy look on her blue eyes while she twirled a lock of hair in her index finger. "My father and I had just returned from a trip in Ireland. I helped him with his research on a cave that appeared there two months ago."
Hermione couldn't help but grin at the blonde-haired girl, finally noticing the pair of mushroom earrings dangling from the girl's ears. It's been almost a year since she last saw Luna Lovegood. But still her eccentric friend never ceased to make Hermione smile with just the sight of her.
"That sounds interesting, Luna." She replied, still eyeing the earrings. "And very mysterious indeed, for caves to appear all of a sudden."
"Oh it was." Luna said wistfully, her eyes becoming distant, probably recalling the sight of the cave. "My father and I were inside the cave when we discovered something."
"Really? What was it?" Hermione asked distractedly, eyes darting back to her two best friends, who were still talking to Neville and Ginny. Too busy to pay any attention to her.
Hermione inwardly groaned.
Luna Lovegood was a nice girl and her friend, but sometimes Hermione wasn't really interested in talking about things that don't exist, or anything weird at the moment.
"We saw some colourful stones inside the cave and some unknown scripts carved on the walls." Luna informed her.
"Surely, Luna is referring to stalagmites or stalactites that are commonly found in limestone caves?" Hermione wondered. The stones sometimes appeared to have different colours and even glow.
With a sigh, Hermione decided to indulge her odd friend.
"What does the stones look like, Luna?" She queried while she tried to curb down her scepticism about this 'mysterious cave'. "Do they hang up from the cave ceilings or rise up from the ground like icicles?"
Instead of answering, Luna peered up at her for what seemed like a few seconds, before she said.
"I know you wouldn't easily believe me, Hermione." Luna said seriously; her pale, blue eyes gleaming. "That's why I brought one as a graduation gift to you."
Hermione's brows shot up in astonishment.
"A gift from Luna?" She thought, instantly beginning to feel apprehensive. "Hmn…that's completely…unexpected."
She eyed Luna critically. Something about the blonde gave off a sense of wrongness, but Hermione dismissed the feeling, and blamed it on her paranoia.
"Well…Thank you, Luna…but you shouldn't have." She said uncertainly. "I never really imagined that you would give—"
She stopped mid-sentence, when Luna reached into her robes and took out her 'gift'.
Hermione silently gaped at the object on Luna's palm.
"I discovered this while we were inside the cave." Luna explained softly as she handed the object to Hermione, who mutely accepted it. "Somehow it had broken apart from the rest of the rock formation. I asked my father if I could give it to you and he said yes. What do you think, Hermione?"
Hermione was speechless as she gazed at the object on her hand. It was a colourful stone, as what Luna said, but it wasn't a part of a stalagmite or stalactite which she initially thought.
The object on Hermione's hand was made from a variation of crystal stone. It shone brilliantly, like a piece of jewellery. It was beautiful, and otherworldly. However, the thing that drew Hermione's attention was not the stone, but the fuzzy object inside it.
"What's that thing inside?" Hermione asked, looking closely at the indistinct shape inside the brilliant stone.
"I don't know." Luna mumbled while her eyes were trained at something above Hermione's head. It was clear to Hermione that the eccentric blonde had probably seen her favourite non-existent creature, like the wrackspurt.
"Do you mind if I take a look?" Hermione asked, pulling out her wand. She really didn't want to destroy the stone but the niggling curiosity was getting the better out of her.
"Hmn..." Luna murmured absentmindedly. Still staring at something behind Hermione.
Not waiting for Luna to address her properly, Hermione pointed her wand at the stone.
"Expulso!"
The stone in Hermione's hand exploded into tiny fragments, revealing the object inside.
It glinted in the light and Hermione breathed in wonder.
"It's a bracelet!" Hermione exclaimed and examined the bracelet closely. It was made of gold with an intricate flowery pattern. There were also small inscriptions carved in the golden vines that wrapped around the bracelet. She caressed the inscriptions delicately and gasped when it suddenly glowed blue.
"It's glowing! Do you think this is a magical bracelet, Luna?" She asked in excitement, intently inspecting the inscriptions. "I can't be sure but these look like runes…but I haven't seen these kinds before..."
She trailed off, frowning at the glowing inscriptions.
"I don't see anything." Luna suddenly said, who had turned to Hermione the moment she heard the brunette exclaimed. "I don't see any bracelet, Hermione."
"Really?" Hermione said, disbelief colouring her voice. "But I'm holding it right now. See?"
She brought the bracelet closer to Luna's face, but the blonde-haired witch couldn't seem to see it, as her dreamy, blue eyes just stared blankly at Hermione's opened hand.
"I'm sorry, Hermione...but I don't really see the bracelet." Luna's face took on an apologetic look as she met Hermione's expectant eyes.
Hermione mutely stared back at her, completely flabbergasted. This was starting to feel weird. Here was Luna Lovegood - whom everyone considered as an oddity; and Hermione Granger - the logical one - was now trying to convince Luna about the invisible bracelet on her hand.
Something about this situation was putting Hermione on edge.
Luna's eyes turned distant once again, as if considering something.
"Perhaps you should try wearing it." She suggested softly. "It might be one of those bracelets that will appear visible once you wear it."
Hermione merely assessed her for a moment, until she silently nodded in agreement. She really didn't know if Luna Lovegood was telling the truth about the bracelet. Hermione couldn't find any reason why Luna would lie to her. So she dismissed her suspicion since she understood Luna well enough to even think that the dreamy-eyed girl would harm her, or make a fool out of her in any way.
Hermione inspected the bracelet in her hand, looking for that little latch she saw earlier. When she finally found it, she brought the bracelet close to her right wrist, and then momentarily hesitated. It looked harmless enough when she touched it. It even emitted warmth after she had ran her fingers along the inscriptions. The bracelet looked brand new. No doubt that the crystal stone had protected the bracelet from erosion or outside interference. That's why it gave an impression that it hadn't been worn before. So what's the harm in wearing it?
The instant the clasp closed and the bracelet securely wrapped around Hermione's wrist; she was immediately blinded by a brilliant, white light. She had to cover her face as it seared right through her retinas at the sight of it. And then, the noise from the party, unexpectedly disappeared; followed by an eerie silence that made her prickle with unease - a silence so deafening that she could hear the pounding in her veins.
With Hermione still momentarily blind, she had trouble registering what was happening around her. Not until she felt the ground vanished from right under her feet, and herself being sucked by some unknown force, that Hermione started to scream. However, no sound came out to break the silence.
With her arms flailing wildly, Hermione descended into the pitch-black darkness below her.
And then, there was nothing...

Year 1952
Albania
The forest was cloaked in darkness. Even the light of the moon couldn't penetrate the thick foliage of the forest. Only the creatures of the night - which lived in the forest - were able to see through the darkness. A cool breeze danced through the trees, rustling leaves along the way, and startling small preys.
In the middle of the woodland, there stood a modest cottage, surrounded by richly coloured floras and thickets. Up above the roofs, a plume of smoke rose up from the used chimney, while lights streamed from the curtained windows. And to add to the cosy environment, there was an old swing just outside the front porch - a perfect place to sit down and drink some hot chocolate during the cold season.
To an outsider, it looked like an ideal home. However, the eeriness that encroached the area, said otherwise that there was something far darker and sinister that lived there. There was also that unnatural silence and stillness in the air, which hung around the humble abode. Animals and small creatures alike seemed to skitter away from that area in instinctual fear. Probably frightened by an unusual predator that dominated in that patch of land.
Inside the cottage, a man sat down on a sofa; his long legs propped up on a coffee table while his arms were folded in front of him. The man had perfectly combed, thick, black hair; though, there were some rebellious strands which curled around his ears and his forehead; some might even say were made for an endearing sight.
This particular individual had pale skin; a straight and long nose; cheek bones that were prominent; and a strong, masculine jaw. And his mouth - his mouth was perfect. A perfectly sculpted lips with a thin upper-lip and a full lower-lip; lips that were currently pursed in disdain. But the only physical feature that stood out more so on his devastatingly, handsome face, was the beautiful pair of glinting, cobalt-blue eyes beneath thick, masculine brows - brows that were drawn into a frown.
At a ripe age of twenty-six, Tom Marvolo Riddle was an extremely handsome man in his prime. Even when his features where set in apparent displeasure.
The crackling sound of the fire was suddenly interrupted by a hiss. The man on the sofa, ran his hand through his hair in sheer frustration.
Whatever the reason behind the action, it must have been too much for Tom, because he suddenly leapt to his feet and started pacing over the carpeted floor like a caged animal.
It has been five years since Tom last saw Volkovich. FIVE. TIRING. YEARS of searching for the foreign wizard and the historical artefacts that he needed to create his horcruxes. FIVE. BLOODY. YEARS of hard work lost without him realizing that his efforts had been for naught. He couldn't care less about Volkovich's whereabouts at the moment, when he had been having problems in creating the horcruxes.
Imagine Tom's surprise when he had tried making another horcrux two weeks ago, and only to fail because there was something entirely wrong with him.
His entire soul had remained whole after he had performed the ritual. He had yielded nothing after days upon days of unerring ritual to create the horcruxes. He had switched from one object to another, but it had generated no results. Fate must really hate him because that hadn't been the only surprise in store for Tom.
No, it hadn't been the only one.
He had felt so defeated after days of subsequent failures that he had forgotten to check the horcrux that he had created years ago. The first horcrux contained in the Gaunt ring. And when Tom had finally examined it a week ago, he had almost completely lost his sanity.
He discovered that the Gaunt ring no longer held his horcrux; which the Riddle family paid the prize.
Tom had no idea what happened to it. He was certain that no one had destroyed the horcrux inside the ring, because he had worn it for the past five years. It was hard to believe, that the piece of his soul to have simply vanished like a puff of smoke. Of course, this left Tom reasonably enraged.
The ring had become worthless like the rest of the relics that Tom had obtained through the years. He had done everything he could to get what he wanted. And he was already THAT close to achieving his immortality.
He had done a lot of unforgivable things in his life that could make Dumbledore's beard curl. He had killed Hepzibah Smith to take the Slytherin locket and the Hufflepuff cup; framed a house elf and his uncle for the murders that they didn't commit; stole the Gaunt Ring after he murdered the Riddle Family during his sixth year at Hogwarts, and then murdered some more along his way.
Tom had left a trail of dead bodies behind him, and then came to Albania to create another horcrux.
"But for what?!" Tom mentally growled; his lips curled in distaste.
And with a sudden roar of pure, unprecedented rage, the entire room erupted into chaos. The windows broke in a shower of glass; the fire that kindled in the fireplace rose so high that the flames licked the ceiling; the sofa and the table were thrown haphazardly across the room, while everything else just simply disintegrated.
Dark magic crackled in the air while Tom continued to unleash his rage. His eyes had a red tint to it as the room turned into a vortex of whirling furniture, debris and unadulterated magic. Despite the danger of being hit by a stray projectile, Tom remained unperturbed by the havoc that he had wreaked around his humble cottage.
Well, that was as normal as it got for one furious Dark Lord. Tom had raged and destroyed half of the cabin the first time he had failed his ritual, but then fixed it again once he had calmed down. And today was no better than the last couple of days, wherein Tom had spent most of his time starting a forest fire, uprooting trees, destroying boulders and killing wild animals. Tom had left a mark of total devastation in his wake. However, he hadn't stopped there. He had almost destroyed his cottage as well, until he realized that he didn't have a comfortable place to sleep anymore.
It was half an hour later when Tom finally calmed down. He looked at the extent of destruction that he had created, yet it didn't give him the satisfaction that he expected. And thus, with a wave of his wand, he set the living room back to its original state. Within minutes, everything was back in place. He then sat back down on the sofa and stared at the flames in the fireplace, like nothing had happened just a short while ago.
Tom sighed while he stretched himself on the sofa, his head rested on the armchair. He felt tired all of a sudden. Probably because he hadn't slept for the past consecutive days.
"Maybe I should rest." Tom considered as he moved an arm to cover his face; his eyes fluttering shut. "There's really nothing I could do at the moment."
Tom Riddle couldn't look more human in that instance; with his arm curled almost protectively over his stomach, while his long legs were lazily stretched before him. The front of his shirt was half opened, exposing his collar bone and a tantalizing view of his masculine chest. His shirt tails - untucked and wrinkled - were strewn messily about his waist. He was also wearing a pair of black trousers with matching black socks.
It was disquieting to think that the man in the sofa was the future Dark Lord.
How could that be? When he looked like any ordinary man his age? Most especially with his dark, good looks and his lazy demeanour in that moment. It wasn't a surprise that the Wizarding World didn't see what was coming to them.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was really a force to be reckoned with.
But there was another person that everyone had underestimated, who turned out to be the greatest witch of her time.
A muggleborn witch.
And a certain Dark Lord didn't see what was coming for him, until it was right in his face.

It was half-past three in the morning - as what the clock indicated above the fireplace - when she simply came to existence.
There was no blinding light to accompany her sudden appearance in the room. Not even a whisper of a sound to announce her arrival to the inhabitant, who was still sleeping in the sofa.
Hermione Jean Granger seemed to simply materialize out of thin air in the year 1952.
She was still unconscious when she shimmered into existence. Her body curled in the floor, next to the sofa where the other occupant of the room was still dozing off. Both still unaware of each other's presence.
It was half an hour later when Hermione started to regain consciousness. A soft groan escaping from her parted lips while she slowly opened her eyes. Her chocolate brown orbs instantly adjusting to the lighting of the room. Immediately, she surveyed her new environment and committed everything to memory.
Hermione noted that she was lying in a lush, carpeted floor. In front of her was a coffee table and a big fireplace, where a welcoming fire blazed at the grate. While behind her, she could feel a lumpy furniture, which she presumed was the sofa.
After her quick survey of the room, it dawned on Hermione that she was in a place unfamiliar to her. It was certainly not the place where her friends resided. The temperature around the room was nearly freezing, even with the fire still blazing at the hearth. She couldn't help but shiver slightly at the cold.
Hermione deduced that she was not anywhere near Hogwarts castle, or even in England for that matter. It had been spring season in England the last time she checked. This sudden drop in climate temperature was an indication that Hermione was somewhere else. Hopefully, she wasn't transported far away from home.
She sat up carefully from her curled, almost foetal position on the floor. Her limbs were still stiff as she propped herself up on her elbows; her muscles protesting at the sudden movement. For a while, she waited for the pins and needles to gradually fade, before she could finally sit upright. As she did so, her gaze immediately caught sight of a figure lying down on the sofa.
Hermione froze instantly. Her brown eyes widened in surprise as she openly gaped at the individual, who continued to sleep soundly.
It was a man she had never seen in her entire life. And said man had messy, black locks - which quickly reminded her of Harry. Hermione also had to admit that he was rather handsome. He had a face that looked like it was carved from a fine, pale marble. And he was sleeping so fitfully that Hermione didn't dare make a sound.
"He looked like a sleeping, dark angel in that position." Hermione thought as she continued to stare at him shamelessly.
If Hermione didn't really know Harry Potter like she did, she would have mistaken the figure as her best friend at a first glace. Although Harry wasn't as good-looking as the man sleeping in front of her, but the man could definitely pass as one of Harry's blood-relative.
"Yes, definitely." She surmised. "This man could even pass as Harry's long, lost brother."
And at the thought of her dark-haired friend, Hermione let out a strained sigh. She wondered whether her two best friends had already noticed her disappearance; but knowing them, they probably did, and would have started looking for her without hesitation.
Perhaps she should make a quick escape before the man could wake up. Hermione considered this, for she didn't really want to find out what the man would do to her once he saw her inside his house. And judging by the magical traces that lingered in the room, the man in front of her was definitely someone powerful…and even possibly dangerous?
If that's the case, Hermione certainly didn't want to go toe-to-toe with the stranger.
She was so deep in thought that Hermione failed to notice the miniscule movement underneath the man's eyelids; a strong indication that he was about to wake up. It was not until the man's long, lashes fluttered open and a pair of breathtakingly, cobalt-blue eyes peered at her, did Hermione realized that the stranger on the sofa was finally awake.
Hermione could only stare at him in silent horror. She should have made an escape while she had the chance, but she had been so distracted that she missed her only window of opportunity.
She didn't realize she was in trouble until it was too late.

Tom must have dozed off because he was suddenly brought up from his sleep by a sound close to him. He was sure that it wasn't his own breathing that he heard, because it sounded suspiciously like a feminine sigh.
The moment Tom opened his eyes, his gaze immediately clashed into a pair of curious, brown eyes coming from a woman, who sat on the floor. For a few seconds, Tom stared blankly at her; uncertain if he was dreaming or having one of those hallucinations that conjured up scantily-clad women in his heavily-warded cottage. That, or there was, in fact, a woman sitting just a foot from him.
"It must be the lack of sleep." Tom decided as he closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face.
"There couldn't possibly be someone —" He sat up, his eyes slowly opening.
"- in my cottage..." Tom's thoughts trailed off at the sight that greeted him once again.
The woman - who he had thought was just a figment of his imagination - was still there, peering up at him with her big, brown eyes.
Briefly, Tom pondered if he had actually lost his mind, because never in his twenty-six-years of life had he seen a woman so out of place like this woman before him. She wore scandalous clothes that he couldn't help but openly ogle at her, even if it was unseemly of him to do so.
Tom seriously hadn't expected this-this oddity at all. His mind was a swirling mess of thoughts as he eventually considered the ramifications of such a strange woman appearing inside his cottage—his cottage which were both unplottable and protected by different high-level wards that were specifically keyed to his magical signature. Therefore, there was not a chance that someone could forcibly enter his cottage, and not get incinerated in the process by his active wards.
"So how come she was able to pass through my wards?" Tom's eyes narrowed, his hand twitching for his wand. "And why was she even here in the first place?"
This mysterious woman - with unknown origin and intention - was an intruder, and a possible threat to his person. The woman knew how to dismantle his wards without him knowing about it...which could only mean one thing…
She must be powerful…
And could prove to be more dangerous..
After he had finally drawn this conclusion, Tom's instinct took over. Within a few seconds, he had his wand in his hand, ready to cast one of his most favourite unforgivable curses. His eyes glinted in an unholy light as he took aim. But before he could even release the curse and cause his intended target a great deal of pain.
The woman said something that completely dumbfounded him.
"Err…Hi?"

To be continued….

What to you think of the chapter so far? Please don't hesitate to provide feedbacks!
And oh, by the way, I'm using British English and not American English. So perhaps you might notice the difference in spellings that you thought was wrong. Here's the list of examples of the words that I might frequently used so far:
British English --> American
1. Defence --> Defense
2. Artefact --> Artifact
3. Colour --> Color
4. Favourite --> Favorite
5. Honour --> Honor
6. Manoeuvre --> Maneuver
7. Swivelling--> Swiveling
8. Mould --> Mold
9. Cosy --> Cozy
10. Scepticism --> Skepticism
11. Analyse --> Analyze
12. Façade --> Facade
13. Demeanour --> Demeanor
14. Naïve --> Naive
15. Endeavour -->Endeavor
16. Favour --> Favor
17. Savour --> Savor
18. Foetal --> Fetal
19. Pretence --> Pretense
20. Discolour --> Discolor
21. Dishonour --> Dishonor
22. Sceptical --> Skeptical
23. Labour -->Labor
24. Centre --> Center
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Mortal Souls